sixty nine | intervention

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"Hi, Dad."

"Hi. . .sweetheart."

A hoarse cough ripples in his chest between his words, and I place the oxygen mask over his blue lips once more. With a few deep inhales, he's able to speak again.

"You've seen Grant, haven't you? About the will and the paperwork?"

"I have."

"And you've discussed the arrangements with the funeral home?"

"I did."

"What about the guest list? I don't want Robert —"

"Could we talk about something else other than your death?" The words leave my mouth more agitated than intended. "I'm sorry, I just —"

His thumb swipes away a tear — one of the many I've shed since receiving the news. However, I'd never cried in front of him.

"It's okay."

"It feels like I just got you back in my life, and now. . ."

"Tell me about Derek's trial."

"What?"

His hands cup over my own. "Tell me about Derek's trial for C.O.P.D.."

"He's using bisoprolol in C.O.P.D. to prevent adverse cardiac events."

"Well, isn't that a mouthful?"

"And he mentioned us quite a few times in the proposal." I thread a few fingers through his matted gray hair. "Derek wanted you to be the first patient."

"At least I'll be in the references."

- - - - - - - - - -

"Okay, but I don't understand. I'm on your service."

"I don't need you. The craniotomy's been canceled, and I don't have anything for the rest of the day."

"So what am I supposed to do now?"

"Go study."

"Study what —"

"I don't care, Lexie. Just go somewhere else."

Before she can respond to his words, he shuts the door and tugs me closer to him. I strip the scrub top over his shoulders.

"You're sure you have time for this?"

"We have to make time for this."

As his lips trail from my jaw to the tip of my collarbone, my mind drifts to my dad restrained to a hospital bed.

"Derek —"

"If we time this right, we could be done in twenty minutes."

"Der —"

"Fifteen if we're really quick."

"Derek, I can't."

His forehead rests upon mine, hand hooked to my outer thigh. "Leven, what happened? Is something wrong?"

"My dad is lying on his deathbed, and I'm in an on-call room making love to my husband." The guilt tears away at my hoarse voice.

"Sweetheart. . ."

"I-I should be working my ass off out there to make him proud."

"And you are. You're one of the greatest residents this hospital's seen."

"So why doesn't it feel like I'm doing enough?"

While scarfing down a side salad from the cafeteria, I make conversation with the rest of the residents — and Lexie — while Alex uses a pingpong nerf gun he "confiscated" from one of the pediatric patients.

"Are you going to Cristina's tonight?"

"I'm not sure."

Lexie fires a pingpong in my direction.

"Hey!"

"Okay, yeah, that's addicting."

"Put it away before I get Meredith's escort to wrestle you to the ground." I toss the ball back to her.

Her tongue sticks out in protest. "Sucks for you, it'll be the first time I'd be getting any action in. . .did I say that out loud?"

"You absolutely did, Dr. Grey."

Before Derek scrubs into his surgery with the celebrity patient everyone in the hospital has assumed to be Bono, I meet him just outside of the scrub room.

"Cristina's having a party? Cristina Yang?"

"I was just as shocked when Lexie told me. But I'm thinking of going with the others to, you know, talk to her."

"Guess I'll be having pizza for dinner."

"Why don't you come with me?" I suggest. "You of all people know what it's like to walk away and come back."

"No."

"And why not?"

Recalling the pained period, he shakes his head. "I wouldn't have come back if I didn't have you to support me. But even then, I pushed you away, I succumbed to alcohol. . .I let you end up in the hospital."

"And I had a wonderful time being spoon-fed Jell-O."

"She's already lashing out. Don't go and try to confront her, Leven."

Owen and Teddy walk by towards the O.R..

"No intervention for Cristina Yang." Derek announces boldly. "Do you hear me? It's a bad idea."

The former, being her husband, stands his ground with crossed arms. "You're content to stand back and watch Cristina lose her spot in this program?"

"I'm saying an intervention is not a good plan."

"It's not intervention, Shepherd. We just thought since we were all together —"

"The three of you have a surgery to get to." I interrupt before strongly-worded statements are made. "We can discuss afterwards."

After a successful simultaneous brain and heart surgery, all of the attendings step out just as Meredith rounds the corner.

Teddy rips off the surgical gown. "I tried everything I could for Yang. I encouraged her into the O.R., and I kept her out of it. I don't know what else I could have done differently. Yang was my student. Don't you think that I wanted to help her?"

"I have no doubt that's what you wanted to do." The neurosurgeon nods once.

"But you're saying that I failed."

"I'm saying that we all failed. And now it's time to back off."

"No, Shepherd, you need to back off." Owen somewhat growls in a protective tone. "She's my wife. I'm not gonna give up on her yet."

"It's clear everyone here wants the same thing: for Cristina to come back."

"I'm sorry. I have a personal stake in this, too."

Derek's hand closes over mine, a tearful haze in his eyes.

"My wife would not be standing here if it wasn't for her."

"But you're asking us to do nothing, and we can't do that. At least, I know I can't do that, and neither can Leven."

"Okay."

That night, Meredith and I leave Cristina's party earlier than expected, given the hostess herself is absent.

"Thanks for suffering through non-alcoholic wine with me."

"There's a first time for everything. . .and a last time."

Together, we pour the tasteless liquid down the drain and pop open a two-liter bottle of club soda for a couple of L.P.s.

"You're not worried about Derek? You know, talking to Cristina without us?"

"Oh, not at all."

"How come?"

"He took the floor plans for the house with him."

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